


Slow Hands

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: CJ and Toby’s backstory, both prior to working on the campaign and in the early months of it. Part 1 of a multi-part series highlighting their relationship across seven seasons of TWW.





	Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

> A NOTE ON SETTING: This fic starts immediately after the “pool scene” from “In the Shadow of Two Gunmen.” 
> 
> A SECOND NOTE ON SETTING: I know that with this fic I'm screwing up all kinds of canon--namely that Toby and Andi were still together and trying to get pregnant right around the time I have CJ and Toby sleeping together. I know I messed that up .... but I don't really care since these scenes were screaming to be written my way. Mea culpa! Hope it doesn't bother anyone too much
> 
> DISCLAIMER 1: I am in no way attempting to infringe on Aaron Sorkin's work or claim it as my own; I'm just taking my two favorite characters out for a stroll. Hail Aaron Sorkin, Overlord of All. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER 2: The title of the fic comes from the deliciously sexy Niall Horan song "Slow Hands." Give it a listen ... and picture Toby and CJ dancing to it.

SLOW HANDS: 

"We should take this back to my place; that's what she said right to my face. Cause I want you bad; yeah, I want you baby. I've been thinking bout it all day ... and I hope you feel the same way ... cause I want you bad. Yeah, I want you baby. Slow hands .... no chance that I'm leaving here without you on me, yeah. I know that there ain't no stopping your plans with those slow hands." -Niall Horan, "Slow Hands"

***  
BEFORE THE CAMPAIGN ... AND AFTER THE POOL:

Toby stayed at her house in the Hollywood hills. He had money for travel expenses and could find a hotel room without an issue, he insisted. But she insisted, too, and in the end she won; sometimes it was just easier to give in to CJ than it was to fight.

He prowled around the living room while she went upstairs to dry off and change clothes. CJ didn’t keep many photos but of the ones she did, he was in at least half of them, a testament to their half-a-decade friendship. They’d met on an ill-fated campaign in New York for which he’d been hired as a speechwriter and she as a publicist. They hit it off immediately, though God alone knew why—she questioned his writing style, his word choice, and his spin on the issues. Rather than finding her criticism rampantly annoying, he found that he enjoyed it, embracing opportunities to challenge her at every turn or to take the challenges she lobbed at him as a way to improve his work. He relished talking to  
her and learning how her mind worked. Over the months of the campaign, they became incredibly close friends, able to read each other better than most anyone else. 

Toby had come into the campaign saddled with a rapidly failing marriage; Andrea had opted to stay in Maryland to run her own Congressional campaign instead of following him to New York to run someone else’s, a move that eventually sounded the death knell for their relationship. Although Toby swore to her that CJ had played no role in the cataclysmic break-up of his marriage, he knew Andi was never entirely able to believe him; she couldn’t put aside the nagging doubt that CJ had replaced her in Toby’s affections. What was problematic was that he wasn’t entirely sure that CJ HADN’T done so, entirely by accident. CJ was easy to relate to. They didn’t argue the way that he and Andi did. They quibbled, sure, and argued semantics, philosophy, and ethics, but it was never with the sort of bone-deep divisiveness with which he and Andy had fought for the last two years. By the time he met CJ he was grateful to find someone with whom he could be himself with no apologies necessary for being cynical or sarcastic or pessimistic. 

He peered at the picture of the two of them in front of the wrought iron gates of the Sleepy Hollow cemetery. It had been an upstate New York campaign stop, made on a sojourn to several small towns to win last minute voters. It had been October, with the leaves still bright on the tree behind them. They were both dressed casually in jeans and sweaters, though he had a collared shirt on under his. He recalled that they had both been wearing hiking boots … he had made a crack about the ridiculousness of two of the least outdoorsy people imaginable wearing hiking boots. CJ was taller than he was by two inches, a fact he tried very hard not to let bother him; her head was tipped slightly to the side to rest against his. His arm was wrapped around her waist, a hand resting familiarly on her hip. 

She’d been in a good mood that day, her love for kitschy tourist traps appeased after having visited the Sleepy Hollow museum and the Headless Horseman statue. Consequently (and somewhat surprisingly) he had been in a good mood as well. Having the freedom to walk around town with no schedule to follow had been refreshing after the rigors of a day-in-day-out itinerary that was timed to the minute. It had felt more like a date than a campaign stop, a thought that had surprised him at the time—to that point he had never seriously thought of CJ in that way. He’d let an occasional thought skitter across his mind, of course, but no more than that. He was in the middle of a divorce and still wearing a wedding ring, for God’s sake … under no circumstances did he need to see anyone else, seriously or not. But he’d still enjoyed the day, enjoyed it more than he’d ever expected to. CJ’s enthusiasm had buoyed him up. By the time they’d ended the day at the cemetery he was more relaxed than he had been in months, enough so that it was easy to smile as the campaign photographer snapped the photo of the “hardworking staff taking a break from the rigors of the campaign trail” (or so it had read when it was published in Time Magazine). 

“That was a good day,” CJ remarked now, coming up behind him. “Remember the jack-o-lantern lighting that night? There were hundreds of them filling the cemetery.”

“Only you would enjoy standing around with the smoke of hundreds of guttering candles wafting through the cold and gusty night air instead of being inside with a beer.”

CJ rolled her eyes. “Do you ever have any fun? I mean, like, EVER?”

“Watching you walk into the pool was pretty entertaining,” he smirked. 

“You know what you can do?” she replied indignantly. 

“Take you to lunch and convince you to join the Presidential campaign.”

“Let’s have a drink on the porch first.”

“It’s 10:30am, CJ.”

“And I just got fired, which makes it the perfect time for a drink.”

Toby laughed. “Any woman who wants to drink before noon is my kind of woman.”

“I’ve always been your kind of woman, Toby,” she replied cheekily.

He was surprised when that off-the-cuff remark punched him right in the gut. The memory of her soaked to the skin in clinging clothing that left nothing to the imagination came roaring up and he felt his groin tighten. Yes, indeed, she IS his kind of woman; she always has been. 

He let her lead the way back out to the patio for the sole purpose of being able to rest his hand on the small of her back as she preceded him out of the room.  
Not even an hour in her presence and he was falling hard for CJ Cregg all over again.

***

SIX MONTHS BEFORE ELECTION DAY:

“And I’m telling YOU that just because I’m a woman it does not follow that I’m in favor of affirmative action,” CJ said exasperatedly, jabbing the button on the elevator for the 11th floor of the Washington Court hotel. 

“You, the Berkley feminist, aren’t in favor of affirmative action?” Toby scoffed. “Please.”

“I’m not!”

“Why WOULDN’T you be?”

“Because giving consideration to one job candidate over another because of their gender is not empowering.” 

“So you’re saying that given the choice between a male AND a female presidential candidate, you wouldn’t attempt to set a precedent by backing the woman? I find that hard to believe.” Toby slid off his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and checked his watch. “That dinner felt like it went on forever.”

“The last thing women need is to set a precedent on the back of an unqualified candidate or to do it because of affirmative action.”

“I don’t believe you but let’s move on. You contend that we shouldn’t be bringing this up tomorrow at all?”

“Hell no! God, Toby, he’s got the women’s vote in the bag—his plan for improving FMLA alone is taking care of that! And Abby’s bringing in good numbers for him, too. Don’t spoil it by bringing in affirmative action, which is a sure way to pick a fight with every misogynistic jackass who still thinks that men’s work is worth more than women’s! You’ll lose those votes at the expense of trying to additionally woo female voters that you already have in the bag.”

They left the elevator and walked down the hallway, voices automatically falling lower out of deference to sleeping hotel guests. 

“For the record, I think you’re wrong.” 

“You ALWAYS think I’m wrong.”

“That’s not true … I just think so this time because Hoynes IS going to bring it up tomorrow to try to raise his numbers with women. We need to have something prepared when he does.”

“Don’t you think that Hoynes’s people are sitting around and having this exact same discussion? They know they can’t beat us with female voters, which is why they won’t bring it  
up! I really wish he’d just concede already!”

CJ opened the door to her hotel room and ushered him in. Toby settled in the armchair by the window and watched as she stepped out of the heels that gave her an additional 3 inches of height on him.

“I think they’re desperate enough to bring it up anyway, just to say they tried everything,” he said. “It’s worth letting Sam have a go at some remarks and see what comes of it.”

“Wasted man hours and wasted brain power is what’s going to come of it,” CJ replied. 

“Have you always been this negative?”

“Only when it involves an exercise in futility.”

CJ took off her heavy earrings and necklace and ran a hand through her hair, disheveling it appealingly. 

“Your tie is coming undone,” she commented, grinning. 

He shrugged and pulled at the bow until it lay limp under his collar. 

“I’ve been told every woman should learn to tie a bow tie,” she said.

“So should every man. I saw Josh resorting to a clip-on.”

CJ laughed. “I never learned. It always looked too difficult.” 

“It’s not. Want me to show you?” He stood and moved to the mirror. 

“WAY too complicated,” she concluded after he’d demonstrated. 

“You have two degrees,” he replied, amused. “It’s not that hard. Come here and try it.”

CJ lifted both ends of the tie in her hands. 

“I could kill you like this, you know,” she joked. “Wrap it around your neck and pull.”

“You like me too much for that,” he replied. “Plus there’s the whole matter of disposing of a dead body.”

“Details,” she scoffed, making a mess of the tie and pulling it loose again. “Okay, I can get this far.” She demonstrated the first two steps. 

He watched their reflection in the mirror. “Good, now loop it.” 

She tied it too loosely but she did manage a passable bow. 

“Try it again,” he said, pulling it undone. 

“This is ridiculous,” she laughed. “You don’t need me to tie your bow tie for you.” 

“It’s a nice trick to have in your arsenal,” he said. “Men find it appealing to have a woman tie a bow tie for them, a la James Bond.”

“I wasn’t aware men thought of such things,” she replied flippantly. She reached for the tie again. “At least I wasn’t aware that you did.” 

“The right woman can make you think about all sort of things.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“I like the idea of you tying my bow tie,” he said.

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked, working on making a tighter bow. 

“Maybe.”

She looked so flustered by the answer—or maybe it was simply by the tie—that he immediately back-pedaled. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No. I just didn’t expect … it’s fine.” She undid the bow and tried one final time. 

“If you mind …”

“I didn’t say I minded.” She let her fingers trail down the front of his shirt before dropping away. “Did you get enough to eat at dinner? I mean, no one really gets to EAT at these things.”

“There’s a vending machine down the hall.” He knew that because he’d gone scavenging for crackers at 1am when words had started eluding him. 

“Good. I’m starved.” She dug in her purse for change. “Get chocolate.”

“There ARE other food groups,” he said, amused. 

“Not from a vending machine there isn’t. Well, there are chips. Get some chips.”

Sam and Josh were in the hall, tie-less and unjacketed, just coming from the bank of elevators. 

“Hey, you seen CJ?” Josh asked. 

“Yeah she’s--” He wasn’t about to admit he was hanging around her room so he finished with, “—in for the night. Everything good down there?”

“Yeah, it’s just the governor and Mrs. Bartlet down there, schmoozing with friends. Are you headed to bed?”

“Vending machines. Then yeah, bed. Sam, we need to have something ready on affirmative action in case Hoynes brings it up.”

“We’ve got the women’s vote locked,” Sam protested. “He’s not gonna bring it up.”

“He still thinks he has a shot, which means he will bring it up, along with the FMLA.”

“Yeah, I’m with Toby on this one,” Josh agreed. 

“I hate you both,” Sam sighed. “I’ll have something by morning.”

He and Josh walked off. Toby fed change into the machines, selected snacks, idly wondering what (if anything) was going to happen once he got back into the room with CJ. 

He’d found himself wanting her more acutely in the past weeks; maybe it was because they were again spending so much time together, maybe it was because he’d been in love with her for longer than he’d care to admit, ever since the first campaign in New York half a decade ago. Because of it, he’d spent the evening half-hard, watching her move through the room in a gorgeous strapless gown, wanting to run his hands across her pale, beautiful skin, to kiss her until her lips were swollen from the pressure of his mouth. Was it the time to act on it? Was it better to let her make the first move? He mulled over it as he took his time walking back down the hall with an armload of crackers, M&Ms, a Snickers, and a bag of chips. 

She’d changed into black yoga pants and a Berkeley t-shirt. Her hair was tousled, as if she’d hastily pulled the shirt over her head and hadn’t had time to brush her hair back into place. 

She’d switched on CNN while he was gone—they couldn’t be in a room together without a news channel on— and now flopped onto the bed with a package of M&Ms.

“Let’s see how he played.” She patted the bed next to her. 

Toby pulled his tie free, unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, and kicked off his shoes before sinking down onto the bed next to CJ. She passed him a bag of chips and he nodded his thanks. 

They watched the coverage together, critiquing the governor’s performance where it was warranted and analyzing CNN’s coverage and commentating. Ten minutes into their viewing, CJ remembered that she had a six pack of beer from a stop at a microbrewery with her luggage and dug out a bottle for each of them. 

“You want to invite Sam and Josh in?” CJ asked, flipping to NBC for the 11pm news. 

“Not really.”

“Me either, I just thought I should ask.” She took a sip of beer and opened the crackers. 

He looked at her, amused. “Because it would be polite?”

“Well, cause we’re a team. It would be like team-building.”

Toby snorted. “I’d rather just be alone with you.” He realized how that sounded and quickly added, “Because I tolerate you more than I do them.” Not any better. “That’s not what I meant either.” He held up the bottle. “How much alcohol is in this?”

CJ peered at the label. “Not enough. I think what you were trying unsuccessfully to say is that you like my wit, charm, and intelligence more than theirs.”

“That was it exactly.”

She grinned and leaned against him companionably. He slid an arm around her shoulders and relished the feeling of her warm weight against his right side. He reached for the bedside lamp with his left hand and clicked it off, leaving the glow from the TV and a desk lamp as the only illumination in the room. They sat like that, watching the news coverage until a commercial break, at which point CJ rose, stretched, and turned off the TV.

“Are you ready for bed? Cause I can--” Toby gestured to the door. 

“No, I can’t sleep yet. I just need to turn the campaign off for a bit.” She dropped back down on the bed and rolled onto her side, pillowing her head on her arm. “Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you just need to turn it off?”

“Sometimes.” 

She reached up and touched the buttons on his starched white shirt. “You are seriously overdressed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me to take my shirt off?”

“Maybe,” she teased. She flicked one of the buttons open. “It’s not like you don’t have something on under it.”

“Fair point. You want to keep undressing me or …”

CJ flicked another button with her fingernail. He stayed still as she managed to undo each of the tiny buttons on his dress shirt in only a few seconds. He slipped out of it, tossing it over the back of a nearby chair with his jacket and tie before settling on the bed next to CJ. 

There was tension in the air, palpable and thick, as each waited for the other to make a move of either acceptance or rejection. Finally Toby said, “I didn’t tell you that you looked beautiful in your dress … but you did. You looked beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. You looked very debonair.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far.” He lightly brushed her hair away from her face. “You always look beautiful, even if you aren’t trying. Even after falling in your swimming pool.”

CJ laughed. “No woman looks beautiful dripping wet, not even the ones on Baywatch.”

“I respectfully disagree.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and, hoping like hell she’d give him the answer he wanted, asked, “CJ, may I kiss you?”

“Please do,” she murmured and sighed contentedly against his mouth when he captured her lips with his. 

He ran his hand into her hair and tipped her head back to sear the line of her throat with kisses. She moaned and the sound shot through him; his heart, his belly, his groin were all on fire with lust for this gorgeous, complex woman.

She pulled him down on top of her, kissing him fiercely, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck. His hand slid down the outside of her thighs, then back up again, taking hold of her hips, learning her curves.

“Claudia Jean, I want you,” he murmured against her mouth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Years, probably,” she whispered back. “You’ve never been good at asking for what you want.” She slid her fingers up into his hair. “Kiss me hard.”

He obliged, pouring every ounce of passion into the joining of their lips. Her hips rolled underneath his, hardening him even more. He pushed against her, not hard, just enough to let her know how aroused she was making him. She let her legs fall open and he moved between them, thrusting against her, making her groan. 

“Toby, wait,” she said after many glorious minutes of kissing and grinding. She laid a hand against his chest. “Just … stop for a second, okay?”

He drew instantly back. “What’s wrong?” 

“Let’s just take a minute.” She blew out a slow breath. “Can we do this without it getting weird? Can we still be friends and sleep together?”

It was a conversation that needed to be had, of course, but he sincerely wished there were a different time to have it. He concentrated on getting blood to come back to his brain so he could formulate an intelligent response. 

“I wasn’t friends with Andi before I married her,” he said, moving, with no little regret, from his place between her legs and sinking back onto the pillows on the other side of the bed. “I think it would have saved my marriage if we had been. And, no, I’m not saying that just to get you into bed. I mean it.”

CJ nodded. “If he wins,” she said, “how would it look, the two of us together?”

“It wouldn’t be anyone’s business, frankly,” he said. “It’s about optics for him, not us.” He turned onto his side to face her and finally asked the question lurking evilly in the back of his mind. “Is this a legitimate concern or is this ‘Toby, I don’t want to sleep with you and don’t know how to say it?’” 

“Of course I want to sleep with you,” she said fiercely. She took his hand and plunged it between her thighs. “Can’t you feel how hot I am for you right now?”

He cupped the warmth of her sex through those thin yoga pants and the erection that had been subsiding flared back up again. 

“I want you,” she insisted. “Don’t doubt that for a minute.”

He lightly rubbed his thumb over her center and hardened even further as he felt her starting to get wet. 

“I believe you,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he fought to keep himself under control … he was ready to tear off his clothes and bury himself inside of her. 

“But I need to know you’re still going to respect me once it’s happened.” 

“How could I do anything but respect you?” He cupped the back of her head with his hand and pulled her up to his mouth for a kiss. 

“Friends, whether we continue to sleep together or not?”

“Always,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

“I do, too,” she repeated, eyes on his. “Now…make love to me.”

He was only too happy to oblige. 

***

THREE MONTHS BEFORE ELECTION DAY:

They fell into a rhythm for the remainder of the campaign—working seamlessly together during the day before tumbling into bed together at night. It wasn’t every night, certainly… they spent too much time being overscheduled and exhausted to make love every night, or even most nights, but they spent enough of them together that Toby started leaving a toothbrush and a change of clothes in her hotel room.

Their friendship had been rooted in so much flirtation, banter, and warm looks that no one seemed to notice their slip into “something more”—not Josh or Sam, certainly; not Leo, who very likely would have disapproved; and not even Donna, surprisingly, who was fairly astute about such things. They were discreet about going into each other’s rooms … one or the other of them always carried a briefing book or a notepad, as if they were planning on doing nothing else but watching the news and discussing policy all evening. Sam caught up to them in the hallway one evening and involved them in such a complex conversation on drilling and fracking that they ended up having an actual policy discussion in Toby’s room for the better part of an hour, CJ casting frustrated glances at Toby behind Sam’s back all the while. 

The campaign picked up a frenetic pace after Bartlet was announced as the official nominee. Sex became their outlet for frustration and anxiety; more than once CJ had to hide suck marks on her neck or shoulder with make-up. One particularly memorable evening even ended with an injury—Toby brought her to a climax so many times with his mouth and hands that she pulled a muscle in her lower back from arching so hard against him. He had to turn away to hide his laughter the next day at her story that she’d been trying out a yoga pose. 

Andi sent word that she’d be coming to DC and Maryland events throughout the summer and fall to stump for Bartlet. Toby was tense and surly before her first scheduled event, smoking a cigar in the hotel garden on an overheated August night.

“Toby?” CJ came up beside him and tried to hand him a story that had just come in off the fax. “You might want to take a look at this.” When he didn’t answer, she prodded, “Toby?”

“WHAT?” he snapped, then grimaced at her expression. “Sorry. I’m just … sorry.”

“Don’t take my head off,” she said, opting for a civil tone instead of the anger that wanted to come through. “You don’t have to talk to her.”

“Oh, yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all.”

“Just perfunctory hellos. Keep it simple. Look like you’re busy.”

“I am busy.”

“You’ve got enough time to stand out here sulking.”

“I’m not sulking. I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. What is this?” He took the paper from her hands and scanned it. “This again?”

“Yeah. Look, just … don’t engage with her if it’s going to bother you so much. She’s not here for you … she’s here for the governor.”

“Did you show this to Sam?”

“He’s the one who showed it to me.”

“Okay, we’ll leave it for tomorrow. Unless you think we should …”

“No, it’s fine. We can leave it.” She glanced toward the doorway and glimpsed Andi making her way toward them. “Here she comes.”

“Christ.” Toby quickly ran a hand over his hair, his tux …clearly he still cared enough about Andi that it mattered how he looked in front of her. He took a step away from CJ, putting space between them, a gesture that made her heart thud strangely in her chest. 

“Toby.” Andi glided up, beautiful in a sea-foam green gown and pearls. She gave her ex-husband a smile. “Nice to see you.”

“Andrea.” He nodded once. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” She gave him a warm smile and a look over. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” he replied stiffly. 

“You’re not even going to return the compliment for old time’s sake?”

“I don’t think I ever told you that you looked nice during our entire marriage. Why would I start now?”

“You’ve just hit on the PROBLEM with our entire marriage.” Andi turned to CJ. “Hey, CJ. I like the dress.” 

“Thank you,” CJ said, working hard not to feel outclassed in her simple shift dress. “It’s great that you’re willing to take the time to speak for the governor. I know he appreciates it.” 

“I’m glad to do it. I’d like to see him focus more on some of the issues that are important to my state’s voters …”

“I have a … thing… I need to talk to Sam about--” Toby mumbled, taking the fax from CJ’s hand abruptly and walking off. “Excuse me.”

Andi rolled her eyes. “God, same old Toby.” She gave CJ an appraising look. “Is he that rude to you?”

“He’s generally that…abrupt…with everyone,” CJ hedged. 

She wasn’t sure how to take the question—did she mean was Toby that rude to her in the general sense or as her lover? Did she know CJ and Toby were a couple now? She was sure they’d been careful … no one at work knew they were seeing each other. So how could Andi know? Could she sense it? She wished she had a better sense of the congresswoman as a person. She knew that Andi had always suspected her marriage with Toby had broken up for good because of Toby’s friendship with CJ, even against Toby’s vehement denials that that was so. Did she believe that still? She seemed friendly enough … but CJ wasn’t naive enough to assume that friendliness wasn’t a mask for genuine malice.

Whatever. She didn’t have time to worry about it. She gave Andi a smile that was as genuine as she could make it under the circumstances. “I should get inside and make sure all the media outlets are here. Have a nice speech.”

“CJ.” Andi stopped her. “Don’t let him make you miserable.”

CJ turned slowly, heart pounding, not sure how to play her reaction. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I did but … I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He’s cynical. He’s angry. He’s unhappy … with the state of the world in general, but it transfers. Don’t let him make you miserable.”

CJ swallowed hard. “He doesn’t. He’s a good friend to me.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s been a good ‘friend’ to you for a long time now.” Andi laughed at the look of panic on CJ’s face. “Look, I’m not going to turn this into some kind of melodramatic chick fight, okay? We’re both better than that. I know he wasn’t sleeping with you while we were married. He was thinking about it, but since thinking isn’t the same  
as doing, I can’t exactly blame you for my marriage ending.”

She stepped closer to CJ. “He doesn’t know how to be happy. He’s incapable. It’s Toby against the world, the lone gunman. Don’t assume he’ll come around or snap out of it or any of those things that I spent too long telling myself. Toby spends his time unhappy because he wants to be. Don’t let him pull you into it.”

CJ groped for a response. “He’s not … I just … I don’t see that side of him.”

Andi gave her a crooked smile. “Well … maybe you’re luckier than I was.” She smoothed her dress. “I need to get in there. Look, CJ, I’m not saying any of this to be spiteful. Toby can be funny, he can be flirtatious, he can be loving and kind … but he can’t do it all the time. Even if it’s great right now, it won’t always be. He WILL make you miserable. Don’t do that to yourself.” 

She walked inside, head high. CJ watched her go, her heart thudding very hard in her chest.  
*

As soon as she came back in from the garden, her eyes scanned the room and found Toby, as they always did. He was talking to Sam with a drink in his hand. She wanted a drink, too, wanted one BADLY. Instead she crossed to the reporters who had come to cover the event, making sure they had advance copies of Andi’s speech, before signaling to Leo that they were ready to start. 

She didn’t stay to watch … she was a little too shaken by the conversation to handle it. Instead she walked back outside and sat down on the edge of a splashing fountain, trying to breathe past the tightness in her chest that spoke of tears wanting to spill.

Damn Andi for forcing her to actually think about the fact that the small bubble they lived in now, the day to day frenzy of a presidential campaign, would eventually come to an end. They’d have to consider what (if anything) lay in store for them, or else they’d have to end their relationship entirely. Neither were things she was emotionally prepared to think about. 

“What did she want to talk to you about?” Toby asked, appearing from seemingly nowhere. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, further away from her than he normally would, a small gesture but one that made her chest even tighter.

“Whether you’re abrupt and abrasive with everyone or just with her.”

“What did you tell her?”

“With everyone.” CJ tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t get all the air she wanted. “Did you tell her, Toby?” 

“Tell her what?”

“About us?”

Toby shot her a “do you think I’m an idiot” look. “Why would I tell my ex-wife that I’m sleeping with you?”

“I don’t know. I mean …”

“I talk to her about work only when I absolutely have to. I certainly wouldn’t talk to her about my sex life.” His voice had a hard, scornful edge to it.

“I didn’t think you would, I just …”

“So why did you ask the question then?” he whisper-yelled with exasperation. 

“Because she knew about us and I thought that you might have let it slip.” CJ turned the full force of a glare on him. “Don’t SPEAK to me in that tone, Toby, don’t you dare! I am not the reason you’re miserable right now.”

Andi’s words came back to her—“He doesn’t know how to be happy. He’s incapable”—and she felt her chest tighten again. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Toby said, his voice genuinely remorseful. “I’m anxious and upset about seeing her but I shouldn’t take it out on you.” He laid a hand on her back between her shoulder blades. “CJ, what’s the matter? What did she say?”

She’d be damned if she told him what Andi had said. Those immensely hurtful words were undeserved. They were her demons to wrestle with, not his. 

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Dammit, she couldn’t get enough air. She took a shuddering breath but that didn’t ease the tightness of imminent tears. Why the hell was she letting this get to her so much?

“Clearly it’s not. You can’t breathe.” He dropped his hand from between her shoulder blades to rub circles on her back. “Do I need to go find a rescue inhaler or something?”

That made her laugh just enough to keep the tears at bay and helped the knot in her chest loosen. She blew out a shaking breath and inhaled another as Toby kept rubbing her back. 

“There you go. Just breathe. Nice and slow.” He leaned forward and swept her hair back so he could see her face. “Want me to get you a drink?”

“God, do I ever!”

“I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her shoulder as he stood up. “Deep breaths.”

“Yeah.”

By the time he came back she had herself reasonably under control again, the tightness in her chest easing, the conversation with Andi compartmentalized in a way that she could safely handle. The drink he brought her helped, though it did little to alleviate the sudden throbbing pain in her temples. 

“Will you come up after this is over?” she asked, knocking back the martini in three quick swallows. 

“Aren’t you going to be tired?”

“I’m going to be exhausted … what’s your point?”

Toby gave her a small smile. “I don’t have one, apparently.” He saw the look on her face, recognized the need in her eyes, and said, “I’ll come up. I promise.”

*

When all was said and done and the evening was in the bag, he let himself into her room using his duplicate key. She had showered all ready and was in pajamas, her hair drying into its usual cloud of wavy ringlets. 

“I brought some food,” he said, placing a covered plate on the table near the window. “Nobody actually eats at these things, right?”

She grinned wearily; she’d said that to him the night they became lovers. “Right.”

He cupped the back of her neck with a warm hand. “Still have a headache?”

“Yes, actually. Have you added telepathy to your list of talents?”

“I can tell by looking at you. You clench your jaw when your head hurts … which probably doesn’t help, by the way.” He traced his thumb up and down the line of her jaw, then kissed her gently. “I’m gonna grab a shower, okay?”

By the time he was finished she had the food he’d brought up for them warmed up and two bottles of beer waiting. 

“Are you going to tell me what had you so upset earlier?” Toby asked. “Or was that more about me being an ass?”

“Andi and I had words.”

“Of the heated variety?”

“No, not heated. Just very frank.”

“Regarding?” Toby’s voice was taking on the quiet tone that meant there would, at some point fairly soon, be an explosion.

“The two of us. Or, rather, the three of us.”

“You aren’t the reason my marriage ended,” Toby said vehemently. “She thinks you are, but you’re not.”

“No, she knows I’m not. She said as much.”

“What was it then?”

“Leave it alone,” she said, popping a mini-quiche in her mouth and chewing. 

“CJ …”

“Toby, it’s between Andi and me. It truly is.”

The urge to either explode at his ex-wife or shrug off the entire conversation warred equally on his face. Finally he said, “My father knows hit men. You want me to hire one?”

CJ laughed, more out of relief that he wasn’t pursuing the matter than the meager joke. “I think I’ll pass on that, thanks.” 

Toby finished off his beer and dumped the bottle in the trash can. “I don’t want you fighting with her.”

“We weren’t. Truly. It was an unpleasant conversation but it wasn’t a fight.”

Toby sat on the bed across from her and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry you’re involved in this.”

“It’s fine …”

“It’s not,” he interrupted. “This is high school drama. We’re too damn old to be doing this.”

“Did you just call me old on top of all of this?” CJ asked, grinning, trying to change the subject. 

Toby sighed, then finally smiled. “Come here.” He tugged at her until she was in his arms, wrapped up inside his warmth and his scent. “I’m sorry for tonight … for her, for me, all  
of it. When she’s here it just reminds me that I couldn’t make it work with her, that I was a failure as a husband. I don’t want that reminder. I want to be better than that for you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Whatever comes for us, I want to do it better for you than I did for her. But I don’t know how to start.” He buried his face in her neck. “Claudia, I don’t want to ruin us. 

“You won’t.” She stroked his hair. “If anyone’s going to screw this up it’ll be me.”

“You couldn’t possibly.”

“What do you get when you have two insecure people trying to make a relationship work?” she asked, half-kidding, half-serious.

“Us.” He pulled back from her and slid his hand into her hair. “Can I take you to bed?”

“What are you planning on doing when you’ve got me there?” She grinned mischievously. 

“We still need to have that discussion on fracking…” He laughed at her expression. “But I wouldn’t mind making love to you after we’re done.”

She kissed him hard. “Make love to me now.”

He tumbled her onto the bed. “If that’s what you want …”

“Yes.” She pulled his shirt off and ran her hands up and down his chest. “That’s exactly what I want. 

*** 

TO BE CONTINUED ...


End file.
